


Corona Borealis

by Sophisticated_Adult



Series: We Mapped The Stars [8]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Roddy needs his people, Rodimus being Rodimus, a sad angsty dork is still a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophisticated_Adult/pseuds/Sophisticated_Adult
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Unicron, Rodimus Prime is still pretty sure there's been a huge mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corona Borealis

To be back on Cybertron so soon - relatively speaking - after their desperate flight to Earth barely _weeks_ ago was surreal, almost dreamlike. The ever-present nightmare of Shockwave's palace, place of torture and nightmares and depraved experiments on captured Autobots, now acted as the Autobot base of operations.  
  
And everyone expected him to be in charge of it. _Ultra Magnus was reporting directly to him_. Him! The idiot kid who barely knew anything about anything! _Why did nobody else seem to think this was a bad idea?_  
  
Was it really just him being unreasonable? Was he asking too much when he pointed out that he literally had no idea what he was doing?  
  
Three cycles ago anyone who said Hot Rod would be Prime would be laughed out of the room.  
  
Okay, so he'd killed a god, _by accident_ , and defeated his dark herald - he really couldn't stress this part enough - _by accident_. Certainly through no meaningful actions of his own.  
  
By being in the right place at the right time.  
  
In fact, he strongly suspected that if _anybody_ \- Springer, Arcee, Bumblebee, Jazz - happened to tumble into that room, the Matrix would not have been choosy about its options to get away from Galvatron and back into Autobot hands.  
  
Rodimus rubbed his neck, wincing a little. It only ached now when he remembered the encounter, the absolute certainty that he was going to die then and there with Galvatron's hands wrapped around his neck - and how fair was that, when that had been Hot Rod? That was the one thing chosen to carry over, the quickened ex-vents, the panic, the memory of those frenzied optics as the last thing he'd ever see...  
  
He shuddered. It was over. He'd won.  
  
Technically.  
  
If you didn't take the view that Galvatron still existed while Hot Rod didn't.  
  
The Matrix was, as ever, silent, save the constant faint background hum in his systems he'd already started to tune out. For a supposedly almost-but-not-quite sentient conduit between God and mech, it sure wasn't providng any useful answers or even vague hints to its own Chosen One.  
  
Surely, surely Ultra Magnus would be better at this than he was.  
  
Ultra Magnus, who the Matrix explicitly rejected, while it still sat snugly inside his own chest.  
  
It was unnerving to think about.  
  
He still hoped that it was just the universe screwing with him, that he'd wake up and it was all a dream, an increasingly unlikely option as the days passed.  
  
How nice it would be if he'd just dreamed up the whole thing.  
  
If he'd dreamed Galvatron, madness and wrath in one terrifying package.  
  
If he'd dreamed that people were now saying _Rodimus Prime and Galvatron_ in the same way as _Optimus Prime and Megatron_ , and that they expected him to go toe-to-toe with this guy the way Optimus did with Megatron.  
  
If he could say _guys, I had this really weird dream_ , and Springer would agree that it was crazy and Arcee would gently reassure him that everything was fine.  
  
He was not used to being alone.  
  
He'd spent the last two nights in his new quarters, half of it dominated by Shockwave's dormant machines that Perceptor would be around later to try and hack into, staring at black, dead screens.  
  
Even with Ultra Magnus as the world's most fearsomely efficient secretary, there just wasn't enough _time_ in the day, and the nights were long stretches of loneliness interspersed with nightmares.  
  
He wondered if this was what it was like for Optimus too, at least at the start, if everyone was just too busy and too exhausted and you just felt guilty even approaching them because it was selfish to ask them to give up what precious free time they had to spend it with _him_. In fact, it had only just crossed Rodimus' mind that such things would probably be deemed Inappropriate. He was the leader and they - as incredibly wrong as it felt it was - were his subordinates. There was probably a clause somewhere.  
  
Well, _frag that_ , he thought, a sudden, Hot Rod-like fierceness that had absolutely nothing to do with the Matrix flaring in his spark. What kind of rule was that? Thou Shalt Not Cuddle With Thy Friends?  
  
Not now, though. The burning flame of rebellion was smothered by the iron grasp of Responsibility - they just needed more time. When things settled down, when it was less crazy busy and he wasn't being pinged by twelve emergencies at any one time - then, then he would go to them.  
  
Completely satisfied with his absolutely flawless plan, Rodimus Prime slipped into recharge.


End file.
